A budget family safari in Kenya

It was the dead of night, lit by a full moon, on my first night in the African bush. Emerging from the camp outhouse, I heard an alarming sound.

An elephant was trumpeting in the dark, loudly and nearby.

I hustled back into our safari tent, hoping the pachyderm was outside the camp, not in it.

In the morning, as the sky lightened into a rosy dawn, I saw the elephants grazing nearby.

In the quiet stillness, I sipped a cup of fresh-roasted Kenyan coffee brewed over a crackling campfire. Our cook, Isaac, stirred a pot and sang softly to himself, crouching by the fire. Everyone else was still asleep.

At that moment, I was so glad I had decided to bring my kids on a budget camping safari to Kenya.

Not only was camping cheaper than staying in a safari lodge, it was a better adventure, too.

Yes, there was no hot water at most of the camps. Yes, we got dirty and grimy. Yes, monkeys invaded our tent when we forgot to zip it up. Yes, we had to sleep on lumpy cots.

But when we heard noises at night, they were the sounds of the Africa we had dreamed about: hooting, roaring, snarling.

Not the sounds of the jazz band in the bar downstairs.

Lanterns lit our camp after dark. No electricity to recharge the video games. At night, we played cards and gazed at the stars.

When the kids woke up, they chased birds and looked for meerkats instead of turning on Nickelodeon.

It was fantasy come true.

Why Africa?

When my father died, I decided to use a bit of my small inheritance to fulfill a lifelong dream, along with my kids, Michael, then age 9, and Sandy, then 7.

People seem frightened by the idea of bringing children, but it's actually a great experience for them. And it's not as expensive as you think.

If you buy a prepackaged safari from a U.S. tour provider, you can end up spending $20,000. But it's not necessary.

I saved a bundle by booking direct.

I used Kenia Tours &Safaris, based in Nairobi, although there are many others.

Dealing with the owner, I was able to e-mail back and forth and get answers to all my questions in advance. Since he only accepted cash, I wired the deposit to his bank in Kenya.

Do a little online research before you put down any money, and make sure you're dealing with a legitimate agency.

Our 10-day camping safari, including all accommodations, driver-guide, cook, all food, transportation and park fees, cost $1,100 for me and $550 each for the kids. Tips, bottled water and beverages were extra.

You can find even cheaper camping safaris, but I wanted everything done for me. I didn't want to pitch my own tent.

Airfare was extra, and cost more than the safari itself. Kids were half price.

Altogether, I spent about $7,000 on this trip of a lifetime. My friends just spent more than that on a Disney Cruise.

Happy campers

Accompanied by four of my girlfriends, we were as happy as anyone can be when we arrived, exhausted and jet-lagged, at the noisy, frenetic chaos of Nairobi airport to find Kenia Safari's drivers there to greet us.

They piled us into the pop-top van and hauled us to the home of my friend, Rob, who was hosting us in Nairobi the first two nights. Typically, a safari company would put you into a hotel the first night, and then take you out into the bush the next day, but Rob had invited us to stay with him.

It was dark when we arrived, so it was impossible to satisfy our burning curiosity to see the "real Africa."

In the morning, at the first rays of light, my son, Michael, jumped up and looked out our bedroom window onto a landscaped lawn and garden that ended in a manicured lake with herons and storks resting on a fallen log.

"Mommy, Africa looks just like the San Diego Zoo!" Michael announced excitedly.

We were all beyond excitement when our safari van rolled up at 7 a.m. to take us to the bush. Somehow, with difficulty, we all wedged in with our bags piled high atop the camping blankets, lanterns and bags of rice.

Trip to the wild

We drove first to Amboseli National Park, on Kenya's southern border with Tanzania. The paved highway was reasonably free of potholes, something we would miss over the next 10 days as we painfully bounced our way over Kenya's awful roads.

Moments after entering the game park, we began screaming with excitement at spotting our first zebra. Then, a family of elephants sauntered past us, the baby holding onto Mom's tail with his trunk.

Over the coming days, we rode along with our heads stuck out of the van's pop top, looking for the next creature. Our driver-guide, Richard, seemed to have an uncanny ability to spot game that seemed to us a tiny dot on the horizon.

Richard was a friendly, indispensable source of knowledge who let my kids ride in the front seat with him and put up cheerfully with their endless questions and pranks.

People seldom bring children on his trips, which is a shame, because the kids who do go love it so much.

Our safari camp at Amboseli was the most rustic of the trip. A canvas tent was perched atop a wooden platform, with three mattresses placed inside.

The outhouse had a shower but no hot water.

Because it was almost spring (seasons are reversed) and we were at a high altitude, cold showers were uninviting. I just let myself get grungy until our next stop.

Every morning, our gray-haired, smiling cook, Isaac, would brew steaming, fresh coffee to rouse us from sleep before the sunrise.

Isaac treated my kids as if they were his own grandchildren and was urging us at every meal to eat more.

We never had a problem obeying, because the meals, with fresh ingredients bought at local markets and cooked over an open fire, were always delicious. Every morning, there was fresh fruit, toast and eggs. Dinner would be a delicious stew of chicken, beef or goat. Lunches also were invariably tasty.

Up with the sun

A typical day in the bush would involve sleepy coffee and toast before sunrise, then a game drive to look for animals that hunt at dawn.

After two hours, we'd return to eat a big breakfast, then relax, napping and writing in our journals, until late afternoon when we'd go out on a second game drive to see animals at dusk.

After dinner, we'd play cards or talk, then turn in early before the next day's adventure.

At Amboseli, Mount Kilimanjaro (just across the border in Tanzania) was obscured for a few days by fog.

When the fog finally rolled away and we had our first glimpse of the looming purple mountain, it was as thrilling as I'd expected.

Sadly, because of global warming, the famous "snows of Kilimanjaro" are almost gone.

An inside look

One treat at Amboseli was the chance to visit a local Masai tribal village.

We each paid $20 for permission to enter the village and have a personal tour, organized by the two fellows in the village who had learned English at boarding school.

They took us around the compound, which is surrounded by a thick fence of thorn tree branches to keep wild animals away. At night, the Masai bring their cows and goats inside to keep them safe.

During the day, little Masai boys have the job of herding the animals.

Masai houses are very snug and cozy, with a fire pit in the middle and a hole in the roof to let the smoke out. Sleeping alcoves lie on either side of the main room.

In the past, the Masai were a nomadic people who would abandon their houses and move to fresh pastures with the seasons. These days the government has built schools, and settlements remain fixed so the youngsters can get an education.

Some villagers taught Michael to make fire with two sticks. Sandy, though, was shooed away because girls aren't allowed to make fire.

After our tour, the entire village had laid out a set of tables where every family had craft items to sell. Most of them were beadwork and produced by the village. It was hard to decide whom to buy from, since the money would go directly to the very poor family who made the item.

I ended up spending nearly all the money I'd brought for souvenirs, about $200, on beautifully beaded necklaces, bracelets, boxes and other items. I always would rather buy handicrafts from the people who made them.

In response to my buying spree, several people came up and tied additional necklaces around our throats as a thank-you.

I was very touched by this, as it seemed a genuine gesture of friendship unrelated to any commercial impulses.

Off track in the highlands

When we left Amboseli, instead of taking the highway, we traveled the bumpy, dirt back roads through the Masai tribal lands and a landscape of golden grasses punctuated by small hills. This gave us a glimpse of the old Kenya before the white people came.

Over the next week, we traveled up into the Kenyan highlands, where coffee beans are grown in cool, green orchards.

We went down into the Great Rift Valley, the birthplace of humankind, and we visited Lake Nakuru, where we saw millions of pink flamingos.

There, we were thrilled to see a rare leopard taking a drink from a creek half-hidden in the forest glade.

We took a break from camping at a tiny, rustic guesthouse, where we had morning visitors: a herd of rhinos relaxing on the lawn.

We also visited the Masai Mara, the legendary game park, where we stayed in a tiny, permanent camp run by Kenia Tours. This camp had hot water but no electricity. My kids befriended the camp manager, Elly, who took them to his house to meet his own children.

At night, an armed guard sat outside our tents to keep us safe from wild animals.

A trip to the Mara River required another armed guard, to keep us safe from the dozens of hippos that live at the river bend. Hippos run fast and kill more people than any other creature in Kenya. We also could see crocodiles lazing in the sun on the riverbanks.

We watched a procession of wildebeest run one after another, in a perfectly straight line, into Tanzania, as part of the annual migration from the Masai Mara into the Serengeti.

Bananas and baboons

One morning, Michael was eating a banana in the front seat of the van as we drove through a troupe of baboons. One big fellow jumped up and was in the process of jumping in to grab the banana when Richard scared him off.

One of my favorite moments was in the morning, on the dry savanna of the Masai Mara, when we approached a zebra carcass that had been well-gnawed.

A lion cub, whose belly was so fat from gorging that it swayed from side to side as he walked, stumbled away from the kill.

His pride-mates were already crashed under a spreading acacia tree.

As we sat and watched huge vultures devouring what was left of the carcass, a pair of tiny jackals arrived, determined to share in the feast.

They barked and barked, charging in and succeeding in driving away the vultures, but only for a minute or two. Then the vultures would again descend and resume their feeding.

But the jackals persisted. One enterprising fellow then actually started dragging the zebra, now only a skeleton, away from the vultures. He managed to get the entire rib cage away from them, then barked furiously to keep them at bay.

Finally, the vultures settled on their side, and the jackals on theirs, and everyone had a bit of breakfast.

Another favorite moment was when we approached a pair of lions in the mating ritual.

Under an acacia nearby, two young males sat in the shade, looking disgruntled. Richard explained to us that these were the rejected suitors, sticking around even though they were now out of the action.

Right next to our van, but with a supreme disinterest in us, a male lion was following a female, who deliberately ignored him and snarled when he tried to approach.

When he leapt on her, ignoring her protests, she clawed him and got away.

We watched, rapt, with cameras clicking, until the suitor eventually did succeed in mating with the lioness. Richard said they would continue with this for days to come.

We saw several other animals mating as well, and babies nursing. The memory of baby giraffes nursing with their long necks twisted makes me glad we'd come in spring, as does the den of hyena pups we spied along the road.

All in all, it was an experience that none of us will forget.

Turning for home

Our last night, as we drove regretfully toward the airport and home, I was surprised when the safari company owner, Ashvin Bhatt, boarded our van to ask how we liked our trip.

We all said it was the best we'd ever had.

I told him I'd traveled extensively but never had a tour company owner meet me personally to gauge my satisfaction, let alone on a Sunday night.

Bhatt, who had no idea I was a journalist, said 16 percent of his business was repeat customers, so he likes to make sure guests had a good time. He also said American and British tour companies routinely sell his trips as their own after doubling or tripling the price.

I promised him that we'd be back as soon as we could.

My kids recently reminded me of that and asked me when we could go back to Africa.

As soon as I can scrape up the money, I promised them. I want to go back, too, and this time maybe go to Tanzania.

More family travel stories by Marla Jo Fisher of the Orange County Register: